


Satisfaction

by etherealllucrezia



Category: Original Work
Genre: Amnesia, F/F, No Lesbians Die, Pyromania
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-17 03:43:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18957187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etherealllucrezia/pseuds/etherealllucrezia
Summary: A simple story of two who thought they were gods.





	Satisfaction

**Author's Note:**

> my first posted story! compliments and critisim is appreciated

Why had I done it? That's a good question, really. Not one I could answer. Even when the forest was set ablaze around me, I could not wrap my head around the answer. I suppose it was... satisfaction. The feeling of hazardous ash invading my lungs, the heat searing on my skin, the turbulent chaos. I stood, moments ago, in a whimsical forest of greenery. With the spill of the gas and the flick of a match, it was gone. Just gone. The memory of her was too.

We'd met in the local park. I was walking my dog when she approached me. We eyed that forest together, blissfully unaware of the mistakes we'd make. I learned that she had a rather quixotic mindset and I was the pragmatist between us. She was volatile, wild, unpredictable. I was always fearful and apprehensive of her next move. But when we burned that first building together, watching the walls and bricks cascade down, I realised something. I was not afraid of her: I was intrigued by her.

After we had burned the home of a total stranger, we fled the scene, into that forest. My heart was hammering in my chest. The feeling was invigorating, exhilerating. And there it was, for the first time ever: Satisfaction. We began to laugh, hysterically. It was facetious of us in the moment. We'd just bunrned down a home. I could hear sirens blaring, geting louder within the distance. The warm scent of smoke still lingered. But I knew, in this moment, with this woman, soil beneath my hands , greenery reflecting in my puils, I was satisfied. At long last, I was satfisfied. She brought me the satisfaction I craved my whole life.

Now, we were criminals. No one suspected us though. To them, we were the mourning cat lady and the woman who was amputee victim. Nothing more, nothing less. But we knew better. And we burned again, and again and again and we got away with it again and again and again.

It never became tedious, not with her. Never. We tended to burn a plethora of places. They always ended up the same way. Dust. We always ended up in the same place. That forest. It became a shelter, a protector. We were almost dependant on that (what we thought was a) neverending haven. We relied on it to conceal our ashy crimes. The moonlight that glared through the many branches became our saving grace. The dirty mud was always waiting for us after we were done with our pyromania. Always. Until one day, it wasn't.

Never were we wavering; never did I doubt her. I should have known this would lead to our downfall.The thing about her was she was intrasigent, relentless and erratic. I was dragged through her plans, adjusting to them to assure they would run smoothly. My glibness and her eccentricity interwove like a beautiful tapestry. But every rug begins to frey, it just so happened in the wrong place, at the wrong time. A stray root. We were running like the wind as we were inebriated on the power we held, and a stray root from the most enchanting tree cursed us. A stray root was all it took to shatter that mirage if safety that the forest brought. She fell and could not get up. Our downfall was not a super human detective. It was not a thrilling gun fight. It was a mistake. We were alone in that forest after burning our last project, but we were alone together. So just like that, she was gone.

Even with her gone, I could hear her words echoing in my mind. As if she was with me, I was unwavering in my choice. Not once did I vacillate between yes and no. My tempestous thoughts did not factor into my decision. No. I wanted... no, I needed revenge- and that is what I would get. No longer would I rely on the renegade roots of the trees. No longer would I consider the convaluted plans of arson. No longer would I play by my own rules. This is what she would've wanted. This is revenge for her old self. One last time, one last fire on our first home, our first blanket. 

Satisfaction. That's all I felt as I set that forest on fire and it begged for something akin to undeserving mercy.

**Author's Note:**

> this was an english essay that i got an eight for so here you go. she said i misspelt facetious when i did NOT. 😤 also, i used 'burnt' instead of 'burned' a lot. this story hurts me


End file.
